


The Austrian Suitor

by casstayinmyass



Category: Actor RPF, Christoph Waltz - Fandom, Inglourious Basterds RPF
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Christoph Waltz Is Fucking Gorgeous, Daddy Kink, F/M, Fingerfucking, Historical, Intelligence Kink, Lap Sex, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Reading, Self-Indulgent, So I Don't Care If 5 People Read This, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 08:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Your intended, Tobias Waltz, and his father travel all the way from Austria to meet you before the wedding. The trouble is, you immediately fall for his father, Archduke Christoph Waltz.





	The Austrian Suitor

 

 

The castle grounds were groomed to perfection. They always looked quite beautiful anyway, but with the occasion approaching of foreign guests, your parents wanted everything just right.

"When do they arrive?" you ask, peering out the window in the sitting room.

"Within the hour," the housekeeper, Mrs. James, assures you, watching with a small smirk. The dress she had Clara, your lady in waiting, put you in this morning is deep blue, bringing out your eyes, and your corset is even tighter than usual. Mrs. James had insisted the bust made prospective suitors friendly, but you insisted that your sharp intellect would make up for it. Mrs. James had said she had no doubt about that, but still, your bust was lovelier than most, and it wouldn't hurt to accentuate it-- even if the archduke's young son from Austria, _Herzog_ Tobias Waltz, was already set to marry you.

"Oh!" you bite your lip, fluffing your skirts up and laying back on the couch, "I wonder if he's going to be positively smouldering with good looks."

"One would hope," Mrs. James replies absently, busying herself with the pillows.

"Perhaps he's as avid a reader as I am!"

"Mm, perhaps he's read Romeo and Juliet," the housekeeper nods along, and you scowl.

"I do hope he shares my view of it. Macbeth is the truly gripping tale, not the two lovers of dull Verona."

"Well then, may you two wile away the nights of your married life together reciting Macbeth to one another by heart," Mrs. James smiles wryly, and you heave another dramatic sigh.

"Oh--"

"What now?"

"Oh, fancy he looks like a troll?"

Mrs. James shoots a look up. "I sincerely doubt the Archduke of Austria's son would have a reputation so grand as it is if he looked like a troll, Miss (y/l/n)." 

"Mm, you're probably right. Is my hair okay?"

"Wonderful."

"My lips?"

"Stunning."

"Do you think he'll like me?" you sigh, and Mrs. James finally gives up, dropping the pillows and sitting down across from you.

"Yes, dear. I think he'll like you."

"No," you begin to grin wickedly, parting your legs, "Do you think he'll _like_ me?"

The tired housekeeper purses her lips, huffing out a chuckle. "A pretty, intelligent, _sexual_ creature like you? What man wouldn't fall in love?"

"Now I'm no harlot," you sniff in quick protest, "I'm simply sexually liberated, as a result of my... extensive enlightenment and array of knowledge."

"That's one way of putting it," Mrs. James smiles sardonically.

You stick up your chin defiantly, crossing your arms. "My pride is completely justified. Besides, Tobias will appreciate it, the moment he comes gallivanting in and sweeps me off my feet!"

"Whatever you say, dear. Now close your legs like the lovely lady you are somewhere in there, and let me finish the housework before your Austrian beau gallivants on into the parlour."

As soft as a mouse, your mother comes floating down into the foyer of the grand castle, wearing her best. She had been fussing all morning over which earrings she would wear-- she had to present her best with her daughter marrying off, it was a spectacular occasion (and just the right time to display her new earrings).

"Ah. You went with the teardrops," your father remarks, glancing at your mother's ears fleetingly as he walks by with the paper, "Smashing."

"Lovely of you to notice, dear," your mother replies, and you can't tell if she's being sincere or not. "When are they due?"

"When they're due," your father says, and your mother blinks.

"You don't seem as happy as you should be."

"And how happy should I be, that my young, _only_ daughter is being married off to a foreigner, and I'll never get to see her again as of next month?"

"You'll get to see me," you assure him casually, obsessively checking that your nails are polished properly, "Just come to Austria."

"Just come to Austria, she says," your father mutters, "Your mother drones on about travelling to the nearest abbey, I'm afraid, let alone the other side of the world, my dove." He opens the paper to a column on the prestigious Archduke's arrival, studying it closely. "Archduke Christoph Waltz, with his son Tobias Waltz, arrive to meet the future duchess of Vienna, Lady (y/l/n). Hm. Pomp and circumstance."

"As it should be," your mother reminds.

 "They're here," Clara says from the front, and you spring up, panic shooting through you as you run over everything in your mind again. Mrs. James smoothes your arms, and tilts your chin up.

"Relax. You do what you do best, (y/n), and you'll capture the room in minutes." You manage a thankful smile, then get in position at the front. Your parents open the door, and you all walk out as the carriage comes to a halt.

First, a tall young [man](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/e7/85/93/e7859389daf10efeb88b002844164637--douglas-booth-romeo-great-expectations.jpg) gets out of one side. This must be him. He's got golden hair, swept to the side, hazel eyes, and a smile that could make any lady want to mount him. He's wearing his royal uniform, and it looks dashing on him. You wait for him to meet your eye and smile, for you two to share that _moment_ you're _supposed_ to have where time stays still and nobody else exists except you two... but he never looks up from his shoe, as he complains about stepping in some mud.

You clear your throat, but he just looks the other way, waiting for his [father](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/13/4b/8f/134b8fb9e94a0dda7901f415b8d251a6--christoph-waltz-cute-photos.jpg) to get out the other side. And he does.

What looks his son has, the Archduke of Austria possesses in triple. His boyish good looks meld oddly well into his older age, which he wears handsomely. His hair, a soft silvery blonde, contrasts his dark suit, and his blue eyes twinkle with mischief. His posture is impeccable, and he walks with unbelievable confidence. You swoon a little, your thighs rubbing together, then you catch yourself.

_What in the hell are you doing?! Back to Tobias._

"My Lord Tobias Waltz," your father stands straight, making an effort to smile, "Lady (y/l/n), your future bride."

"Mm, Guten Tag," he says, shaking your hand with a hint of impatience. You smile in your best efforts, blushing a little as he finally returns it.

"...My Lord Archduke," your father goes on, "My lovely daughter."

"And lovely she is indeed," he smiles, and looks at you as he takes your hand. _There it is. The moment._ This man stares into your eyes with careful scrutiny, playful yet searching, and you're captivated. There's something so deep, so striking about him. His thumb strokes lightly over your knuckles as his gaze flickers down to your lips. He then breaks contact with a small smirk. "Is she not, Tobias?"

"Oh lovely, ja," Tobias nods, distracted by a bird sitting on the sill. Your mother coughs, and invites everyone in. 

Once inside, the normal pleasantries are exchanged. Tea is served, and the Archduke takes a seat across the room from you and Tobias, with your parents. They make a toast to the engagement, and Christoph raises his cup.

"Prost."

"What a long journey," your mother makes conversation, "You must be tired."

"Oh lord, you have no idea--" Tobias begins to moan, but Christoph cuts him off with a warning glare. He then gives a dismissive chuckle.

"A little bit road weary, I suppose, but we were happy to make the trip to meet young (y/n), of course!"

"Well?" you ask, biting your lip, "Was it worth it?"

Again, you two lock eyes. "More than."

Your mother attempts a lighthearted laugh to break the tension. "As things are going currently, it would appear you're the one trying to court our daughter, my Lord Archduke, not Tobias!"

You feel your stomach flop in embarrassment, and even your father looks up with a scowl, thinking the joke tasteless, but Christoph just laughs it off, laugh lines by his eyes pronounced. "Could you imagine?" he plays along, shaking his head. But then, the look is back as he takes a long sip of tea, and you can't stop the warmth spreading throughout your body. You look over to your suitor, hoping to channel some of this sexual energy into the right man before your body decides it's too late.

"So Tobias, tell me," you smile, taking his arm, "What did you study in Austria?"

He finishes shoving down an horderve. "Study?"

You feel your chest tighten up, and your parents immediately share a loaded glance. For just a moment, you excuse yourself.

* * *

 A little later, after dinner is served, you decide that it's time to give your suitor another chance. He is, after all, going to be the face you wake up to every morning like it or not, and he could just be starting out rocky because of the travel and new country. As the maids tidy up, you and Tobias step out to the veranda.

"I must say," you join him, walking out under the stars of the beautiful summer night, "I didn't take you for a man who appreciates humor when you arrived."

"And what makes you say that?" He turns.

"You seemed preoccupied with... other things," you chance a giggle, and to your utter relief, he finally smiles warmly.

"Forgive me, schatzen. I was rude. I don't do well travelling, though I should really be used to it, with every trip my father has to take."

"Your father..." you start to ask, a billion questions bouncing around in your head, but you decide against asking any of them. "Well, that's alright."

"Why do you bring humor up?" he asks.

"Oh, your joke about studying earlier," you laugh, clutching his arm again, "That you didn't?"

"I wasn't really joking," he huffs, and your worries arise again. "My Papa, being the grand intellectual that he is, just had to pay the finest tutors in the country to teach me all kinds of dull, dry things I never again in my life care to think about. Then when I was old enough to attend boarding school, he sent me off with advice to read everything I got my hands on-- I did the exact opposite, of course. I hardly went to class."

"Why not?"

"Where's the fun in it? Besides, Papa is rich. What need have I for school?"

He smirks that devil may care smile, thinking he must appear even more attractive to you now, but his smile just makes you sick to your stomach. For someone to have that much disregard for learning, for reading, for literature, astounds you.

"You look a little pale, (y/n)," Tobias mentions, though he doesn't sound as if he really cares. "Well. I think I'll turn in. Guten nacht." He seems to contemplate leaving a kiss on your cheek, but decides against it, brushing past you awkwardly with not so much as a sideways glance.

You're left, dumbfounded and ready to cry. You storm inside, and walk past your mother, father, and housekeeper as you make your way to the second corridor. The moon is up by now, the sky fading from an orange haze to the purple blue of late evening.

You sniffle, crossing your arms, and continue down the dark hall with only a candelabra to light your way.

"Pardon me, Fraulein." You whip around and cover your mouth, then see Christoph. "Oh-- I do... apologize for the scare, but I find myself lost, I'm afraid." He puts his arms up apologetically. "I am good at giving direction, but ultimately not taking it. Would you be so kind as to show me to my room?"

You run a hand through your carefully done hair, messing it up and sighing. "You're far away from it. What were you doing over in this part of the castle?" You catch yourself, and clear your throat. "Ehm... sir. My Lord Archduke."

He just smiles in good nature, and steps forward. "I suppose I am obligated to disclose my intentions to you, as this is your home."

"--no no, you _certainly_ don't need to my Lord, I don't know what I was saying, I--"

"I was in the library." You stop short, and place a hand over your chest.

"My library?"

"Your library?" he reiterates, eyebrows raising. "All those heirlich... mmm, _magnificent_ books belong to you?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"You can dispense with the my Lord, it makes me feel older than I am," he says, and you smile.

"What can I call you?"

"Mm," he pretends to think on it, "Christoph would do, as it is my name." You giggle, and he offers his arm for you to take. "Now. Would you direct a poor, lost Austrian to his bed so that he may lay his weary head on a soft pillow?"

"I would be happy to, m-- Christoph."

He pats your hand. "Yes, there we go, perfect." You grin, and lead him down the corridor. As you both walk, he stares up at the large stone columns. "It is magnificent."

"The castle?" you ask excitedly, "Oh, yes. It's haunted, you know."

"Haunted," Christoph repeats.

"Yes! Every night, we hear the howling, the moaning, the chains. It's quite blatant."

"And... who may it be, that is haunting your charming abode?" he asks in amusement, throwing a look around.

"I think it's a family member, like in Hamlet." Christoph gives a smile at your reference.

"Mein liebe, as exciting as a visit from King Hamlet would be, I would wager your spectre is some poor soul who threw himself off the tallest tower back when this place was conceived."

"Why take the fun out of it?" you pout, and he watches your lips with a twinkle in his eye. You catch his gaze, and move a little closer to him. He smirks, but directs his gaze back ahead.

"You are an admirer of Shakespeare, then."

"Indeed!"

"I am as well. We have many astounding Austrian writers in Vienna, but Shakespeare's prolific writing is of course, world renowned."

"With reason!" you cry passionately, "Oh, he's brilliant, King Lear touched my heart when I read of his madness, and those heartless sisters!"

"Mm, cruelty portrayed quite accurately," he nods, "Being Archduke, I see too much of it." As you walk, you get into a discussion over the greatest pieces of literature of the times, politics in Vienna, politics here at home, philosophy, fantasy, and astronomy, and lose track of time. You're just enamoured by his presence, as well as more than a little turned on at how intelligent and well-versed he is.

"So... Tobias doesn't like to read," you finally bring up the elephant in the room, and Christoph sighs.

"My son does not place as great an importance on education as you or I, no," he nods, and you look down.

"Why?"

"Simply because he does not care to," Christoph mutters, obviously vexed by the fact. "I of course put him through the best school, hired a good tutor to try and make certain he would be raised properly. Alas, he has fallen back on my money. Thinks he can do what he pleases with it."

"No offense intended, but perhaps he should pick up a book and find out how that usually ends." You both chuckle at the shared joke, and you get to his door.

"Hm. I suppose I was not too far off," Christoph looks at his door, and smiles. You feel yourself ache between your legs at that smirk, and your breath becomes shallow as he regards your speechlessness with curiosity. It almost seems like he can tell, but he's not the type to toy with you. His eyes are gentle as he reaches for your hands. "I will bid you guten nacht. Good night, Fraulein." 

"Christoph..." you say slowly, and he looks at you almost expectantly.

"Yes, Miss (y/n)?"

By now, the warmth in your body is raging, and you need to do something about it. Acting rashly as always, you move in one swift movement and press your lips together with your future husband's father. He's shocked at first, but isn't about to deny you. He growls into your mouth, slipping his tongue in and grabbing the back of your head. His sudden shift from his kind, gentle demeanor to this dominance makes your head spin, and your pussy responds almost immediately.

He pulls back for a minute, eyes searching yours as your lips wait inches apart.

"I do not think this is a good idea."

"Why?" you all but whine, hands already running down his chest to his buttons.

"I am to be your father by law," he hisses.

"I haven't married your son yet," you whisper back furtively, "I'm still, by law, nothing more than a sexually frustrated lady of the manor." He watches you, and at your sound logic and pleading eyes, finally gives in with another kiss.

"Did it make you wet?" he whispers, barely ghosting his soft lips over yours, "Talking with me about all those wonderful things?" You nod, and fight the urge to thread your fingers through that hair and tug.

"So wet. You're so fucking smart, sir."

He's visibly affected by you calling him that while looking so wanton.

"As are you, (y/n). I have never met a brighter young lady of your stature." You glow with pride at his compliment. He glances down to his pants, where a noticeable bulge is forming. "Well..." he murmurs, "This is a predicament." You moan, and he shushes you. "Hush. You'll wake the maids."

"I don't c--"

"Shh," he whispers, lips touching yours again ever so slightly, "Quiet that fierce, brilliant little mouth of yours."

You swallow, and lower your voice. "Can I... come in?" you ask meekly, and he looks at you with indecision. Finally, he nods in resignation.

"Mein Gott, it is better than taking your clothes off in the corridor."

With that, he pulls his lips away, and you follow him in, shutting the door and barring it in a daze of arousal. He lights a candle, and begins to strip out of his uniform as you watch, transfixed.

You were no stranger to the male body. As much as your parents refused to believe it, you had been experimenting from a young age, and knew what you were doing... but seeing the handsome older man in front of you undress did things to you that no other boy had.

"Enjoying yourself, Fraulein?" he smirks, and you nod eagerly. He yawns, and sits on the couch. "Ah! Aussehen, look at this... cigars for the guest, how thoughtful."

Your eyes darken as you sense what he wants, and get on your knees, crawling forward to retrieve matches. He puts a cigar in his mouth, and you strike one, lifting it up. He puffs on it, and the thick smoke curls in his mouth as he admires you from above.

"Good girl."

You shudder, grinding yourself down against your heel. You want to do more to please him. You want to hear that pride in his voice again, that praise. He senses this, and moves his eyes down to his clothes, guiding you to unbutton his undershirt. You do, and while you're there, you move down to his pants, slowly sliding the buckle out. As you do this, he lounges, taking deep drags on his cigar as he sits back and enjoys himself.

He makes a small noise of chastisement as you begin to stroke him, and again, you understand just what he wants. Moving between his legs, you part the folds of his pants, and take out his cock, licking your lips at the sight. After a second, you lean forward, keeping one hand on his thigh for purchase as you lower your mouth over him.

He continues to smoke his cigar, occasionally directing you to slow down, and you feel yourself grow wetter and wetter as you think about how much he doesn't give a fuck about what you're doing. Despite his show, you can tell he likes it-- his cock begins to twitch against your tongue, and you can't wait to taste him when he gives you his load.

It sends another thrill through you to imagine how positively naughty you are. A proper rich girl like you who's about to be married, is letting the sexy father of her intended fuck her mouth as she moans like a common whore in his guest room.

_If only Mrs. James knew. She'd have heart failure._

You suck him down, paying careful attention to each vein and especially to the head. You pull off for a moment. "Christoph?"

"Mm?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Could you, um... talk to me some more? In, eh..." you giggle with a light blush, "in German?"

"Ah," he nods, and places a hand on your head, guiding you up and down his cock as he starts to talk in a low drawl.  "Well. Deine schönen lippen um mich herum zu sehen, lässt mich dich an den haaren packen, dich berühren, dich satt machen, dich ficken, dich mit mir fortbewegen bis du um Gnade bettelst." (Seeing your pretty lips around me makes me want to grab you by the hair, touch you, fill you, fuck you, have my way with you until you beg for mercy.)

You groan, working him faster. You catch a few key words here and there, having read some volumes of popular books in the language. He takes a deep drag on his cigar, exhaling a plume, squinting, and watching you through it.

"Dein Stöhnen ist das dreckigste, was ich je gehört habe, und ich beabsichtige, es zu meinem vorteil zu nutzen, meine Liebe." (Your moans are the filthiest thing I've ever heard, and I intend to use them to my advantage, my love.)

You look up at him, how powerful he looks above you, and just about come right there. He sees how aroused you are, and nudges you to get up. He then pats his lap. "Come to papa."

You gasp a little, pussy clenching, and do as he says, sitting on his lap and facing away from him toward the bed. The friction is immediate, and you have to fight to remain still and not drag your throbbing pussy against his thigh. He lays his cigar in a bowl on the small wooden table, and hooks his chin over your left shoulder, wrapping one arm around you to hold you just under your breasts as the other one reaches under your skirts from below. You gasp louder, and squirm down as Christoph reaches into your underwear and parts your folds, feeling along your slick entrance. He then presses a kiss to your ear, and inserts two fingers, beginning to pump them in and out. You rock down onto them, moaning his name.

"Christoph... oh, please-- don't stop, don't ever... oh, don't ever stop."

"Never," his gravelly, lust-filled voice rasps in your ear, "Never when my girl was being so good to her papa."

"Ah," you breathe, gyrating your hips on his lap as he adds a third finger. He has to slide his hand up to cover your mouth as you cry out, and he begins to pump even deeper, curving his fingers to stroke your sweet spot. His thumb goes to your clit, rubbing faster and faster. Your ass is grinding down perfectly against his cock, which is still rock hard, and you're both close to your orgasms.

"You deserve it..." he murmurs in your ear, "You deserve it... you're so good... so good for me, mein liebchen, so good."

You reach back and up to grab his hair, arching your back. He fucks you hard with his fingers, in and out, your wetness loud and evident. He adds a fourth finger, chokes a little and lets out a sinful moan as you rub just right against his erection, and you trigger each other's climaxes.

"Come for me... ah, let me feel you come sweet girl... oh!"

You shudder on top of him as he strokes you to completion and through it, and you feel his spending shoot against your lower back, just over your skirts. That, for some reason, makes it even hotter, and you continue to rock down and moan feverishly as you orgasm.

Minutes later, Christoph takes out a handkerchief, and dabs at his forehead. He then cleans you off with it, and presses a line of kisses down your neck, ending with your soft shoulder.

"You are very talented," he finally says, and you get off him, breathing heavily and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"You won't see the extent of my talents-- in the library or the bedroom-- until we get to Austria and I get married to your son."

He chuckles, running a hand through his now-dishevelled hair. "You clever little devil, you."  

* * *

The next morning, you and the Archduke made eye contact only twice over the breakfast table. It's not like Tobias would have noticed-- he was too busy wolfing down his bread, and your parents were discussing transportation for when you leave next week.

Nobody suspected, and nobody would... that is, until you spilled everything to Mrs. James that afternoon, her tutting and trying to hold her laughter in the whole way through it.

"Oh, Christoph is simply _perfect_. Every inch the handsome charmer the papers make him out to be," you gush to her.

"Who?!"

"Tobias' father, of course!"

 The housekeeper just smiles fondly to herself as you go off in search of your diary. "That girl is too much trouble for her own good."


End file.
